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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884348">Appropriate Insanity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdr_24601/pseuds/mdr_24601'>mdr_24601</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>70th Hunger Games, F/M, POV Finnick Odair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:16:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdr_24601/pseuds/mdr_24601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Finnick sees Annie for the first time after her time in the arena.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Appropriate Insanity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Finnick wasn’t sure how long he sat outside of that hospital room. He couldn’t count the minutes even if he tried, even though it felt like counting each passing second was all there was to do. Annie was twelve hours out of the arena and hadn’t woken up properly; that itself wasn’t unusual for victors. But her injuries were minimal and fixed in minutes with Capitol technology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So why couldn’t he see her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Finnick said, eyes snapping up as a doctor walked passed. “Can I see her now?” In a normal situation, he would have calculated his words and the tone of his voice perfectly, already poised for his ideal outcome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this was not a normal situation, and Finnick was tired, so he let it slip. Just a little, just for a moment. He had more important things to focus on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t see her,” the doctor said, eyeing him warily. “She’s not ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, not ready? I saw her injuries. You’ve healed worse than that quicker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “It’s not her injuries. She’s...unstable. In the mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finnick’s eyes narrowed. Weren’t they all unstable? It was practically guaranteed when you were a victor. Clearly, this doctor, and all the others who had treated Annie, were incapable of understanding that. Of course they were; they weren’t victors, they hadn’t fought and bled and killed in the arena. “I want to see her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, and he at least had the decency to sound it. “You’re not allowed to see her. She needs advanced medical care, and you’re not experienced in the medical field.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, then straightened his shoulders and tilted his head to the perfect angle. “Doctor Greene,” he said slowly, reading off the doctor’s name tag. “I know you all must be doing your best to help our newest victor. But she has an interview coming up soon, doesn’t she? Wouldn’t it be better for Annie to prepare for the next step of her victory?”</span>
</p><p>Finally, he relented. “I suppose. Only for a few minutes, though. She needs her rest.”</p><p>
  <span>Finnick put on his best smile. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he entered the room, Annie was sleeping, chest rising and falling gently with every breath. She looked better than in the arena; all injuries and physical blemishes had been erased hours ago. According to the doctors, the only wounds left were on her mind. They spoke about it in hushed voices, as if saying it too loudly would solidify Annie’s diagnosis as insane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stirred in bed, eyes opening slowly, then all at once. Her breath came out in panicked gasps as she pulled at the covers on her bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said, careful not to touch her. “I’m here, Annie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finnick,” she said between breaths. He tried not to dwell on how his heart swelled as she said his name. “I want to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. Truthfully, Annie would not get what she wanted. There was no going back to how things were before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They keep giving me carrot soup,” she continued, eyes wide. “I hate carrot soup. Will you tell them? They don’t listen to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let them know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie leaned back into her pillows, fatigue weighing her shoulders down. “The doctors don’t know what to do with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finnick gave her a wry smile. “No, I don’t think they do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They think I’ve gone mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused. Annie wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>mad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she was scared. He was, too. They were all scared because they lived in a scary world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could you put somebody in a situation that scares them and then berate them for responding appropriately? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not mad,” Finnick said eventually. “I’ll tell them to listen to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes found his for a moment. They were still slightly glassy from the sedatives they had given her, but Annie seemed more aware than she had in days. “Good,” she declared. “I don’t think they understand anything here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, they don’t,” he agreed, laughing a little. Annie’s lips twitched and he felt victorious for even getting a partial smile out of her. “And they might never understand you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m mad?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” A beat of silence. “Because you’re honest. Good. They don’t know what to do with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie fiddled with her covers contemplatively. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t,” Finnick said, fingers slowly inching towards her hand. “Don’t let them take that from you, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips twitched again, and she nodded. As if pulled down by an invisible weight, her shoulders drooped, and Annie settled back into her pillows, eyes closing. Maybe it was the sedatives, or the remnants of arena fatigue, but she was dozing off moments later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor poked his head in, eyes scanning the room. “That was quiet. She talked to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you she would,” Finnick said. “Maybe she’d talk to you if you made an effort to listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor grimaced. “Mr. Odair, you have to understand that this is a very peculiar situation. Victors don’t usually react like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know anything about how we react,” he replied, keeping his voice even and cool. Before the doctor could say anything else, Finnick brushed his shoulder on the way out the door. “She hates the carrot soup, by the way.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one’s a little short but I wanted to write these two. Thanks for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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